I Squeemed

I Squeem, You Squeem, We All Squeem for Nice Squeem Dept.

Searching for something else in this blog, I came upon my post extolling the virtues of the Squeem “Perfect Waist” waist cincher. Looking at the accompanying photo, I was impressed by my curvy figure and especially my flat tummy... so impressed that I thought I should revisit wearing the Squeem.

I tried to recall why I had given up wearing the Squeem. Knowing me, I was probably distracted by a new shiny object and abandoned the Squeem for it.

Also, I wondered how the Squeem would fit now that I am 25 pounds lighter than when I had last worn it, so I got it out of storage and tried it on. It fit perfectly. The only difference was that I had to use the “skinny” row of hook-and-eye closures rather than the “chubby” row of closures. 

I added my old Squeem to my arsenal of shapewear. 

Live Wigs Dept.

Big wig buyer that I am, everyday I receive email ads from various wig sellers. The Wig Company recently went above and beyond simple advertisements by introducing its customers to Tia, a wig expert who guest blogged “How To Make Synthetic Wigs Look Realistic. It is an excellent piece and includes a handful of how-to videos and a link to Tia’s YouTube channel that has even more – everything you wanted to know about wigs, but didn’t know who to ask!

Your Bra is My Bra Dept.

After 38 years of marital bliss, I can’t believe that I never knew my spouse’s bra size until I did the laundry the other day and discovered that my wife wears the same size bra as I do (or vice versa). We are so compatible – a match made in heaven!

Wearing Venus

Four femulators are on stage in this scene from the 2017 British film Glamour Dolls.

As I recall, the first time I ever used the ladies’ room was at a venue where my support group was having its annual banquet. For our “convenience,” the venue assigned us our own private restroom. I was having none of that and when I had to go, I used the ladies’ room that all the cisgender ladies were using. 

Entering the ladies’ inner sanctum and mixing with the female civilians was the highlight of that banquet. And ever since then, I have always used the ladies’ rooms and have never looked back.

I feel completely safe using the ladies' rooms in Connecticut. I don't give it a second thought because Connecticut courts say to use the restroom that matches your gender presentation. So Stana uses the ladies’ room and Stan uses the men’s room.

Actually, I use the ladies’ room wherever I find myself ― Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia ― in locales that do not have Connecticut's diverse restroom policy. Using the restroom in those states is a little daunting, but there is no way I am going to enter the men’s room dressed to the nines in a skirt and heels! So I take a deep breath, gird my loins and use the ladies’ room in those foreign climes.

Some girls recommend getting in and out of the ladies’ room as fast as possible so as not to bring any attention to oneself, but in my opinion, a woman using the ladies’ room in a hurried and perhaps furtive manner may raise a few eyebrows. When I use the ladies’ room, I always put my best high-heeled foot forward. I walk into the ladies’ room as if I belong, do my business, wash my hands, primp in the mirror and exit when I am done. All the while, I try not to bring attention to myself by acting inappropriately.

Life in the ladies’ room is very different than life in the men’s room. In general, men mind their own business in the men’s room and do not strike up conversations with other men. They do their business, occasionally wash their hands and get out of Dodge ASAP while trying to avoid eye contact with any other men using the facility.

In contrast, ladies often greet other ladies in the ladies’ room and will strike up a conversation at the drop of a hat. I lost count how many times cisgender ladies have struck up a conversation with me by complimenting my shoes, my hair, my dress, the weather, the venue, etc. So be prepared to chat with the other ladies’ using the facilities.

Gina asked, “What sort of attention am I likely to get from other users if I use such facilities and how do I avoid the prospect of being asked to leave the establishment as a result of attracting the wrong kind!”

The average civilian does not examine every person they encounter to try to determine if they are trans or not. Unless the transperson presents in a way that will alert a civilian that something is amiss (or not a Miss), the transperson will blend into the background of the civilian’s daily routine. So if your presentation works out and about, it will also work in the confines of the ladies’ room. And you will not be asked to leave the establishment.

I have never had any issues using ladies’ rooms in restaurants, malls, bars, department stores, universities, highway rest stops, banquet halls, gas stations, colleges, museums, theaters, convention halls, fairgrounds or anywhere else. Nor have I ever heard a negative comment regarding my presence in the holy of holies. Worst case, I might get an odd look, which indicates to me that the looker is not sure whether I am a girl or a boy. 

Family restrooms offer a safe place to do your thing without worrying about causing a commotion, but I still use the ladies’ room even if a family restroom is available. I would rather encounter a woman looking at me oddly in the ladies’ room than a guy looking at me oddly in the family restroom.

Usually, I am not a distraction and I actually enjoy my ladies’ rooms visits! But I dread using the ladies’ room for its intended purpose. The stalls are too tight for an Amazonian like me and it is difficult to get half undressed in that confined space, which is essentially what you have to do in order to do what you have to do; raise your dress or lower your slacks, lower your pantyhose, lower your panties and if you are wearing a girdle, you have to deal with that, too.

And after you do your business and wipe yourself, you have to get dressed in that confined space. That’s why I closely check myself out in the mirror after exiting the stall to make sure everything is where it is supposed to be.

And while you are in the stall, don’t put your bag on the floor ― yuck! Hang it on the hook that is usually mounted on the inside of the stall door.

And most importantly, remember to sit to pee!

Wearing Eloquii

Johnny Downs femulating in the 1941 film All American Co-Ed. You can view this film on YouTube and be sure to check out the stage full of femulators at the beginning of the film.

Ready to Zoom on Saturday

The board meeting was only three hours long, yet I dressed fully en femme even though I would only be seen from mid-torso and up. Saturday was an all-day event (10 AM to 5:30 PM) – the longest I have been fully dressed en femme in a long while.

I wore my Squeem “Perfect Waist” waist cincher both days and I was reminded how comfortable as well effective it is. I also wore my Nine West 4-inch high heel slingback pumps both days and they were comfortable from beginning to end, so I believe the foot stretching exercises that I do every morning are having an effect.

On the non-wardrobe front, I was visible en femme via Zoom to my fellow board members during the board meeting on Thursday where I was reelected as the group’s secretary for a 19th consecutive term! The board members are used to seeing me en femme via Zoom and in person at Hamvention, so it was not a big deal.

A bigger deal was Zooming en femme to the hundred or so conference attendees, many of whom have never seen me as a woman. Some are probably familiar with my male byline writing for ham radio publications for over 30 years and some are probably familiar with the female byline that I have been using the past 10 years, but not so much my female visage. Either way they seemed very comfortable interacting with me always using the correct pronouns and my female name. So I was very happy with that!

Which reminds me the first time I made a presentation to the public en femme. It was in person at Hamvention in 2018. (Stop me if you heard this story before.) 

After the presentation, a fellow came over to talk to me. He is a member of our organization and I have probably seen him at every Hamvention I have attended during the past 10 to 15 years.

The gent asked me, “How are you related to Stan Horzepa?”

I sure did not see that coming. It was music to my ears.

Wearing Jonathan Simkhai

Dick Shawn femulating in the 1984 film Angel. You can view the film on YouTube.

In

In the comments, ikaras asked, “What foot exercises are working for you?”

To make a short story long...

In recent years, I noticed that my ability to wear high heels has diminished – I cannot wear heels for very long without pain in my foot. I was aware of various foot exercises that were supposed to help the problem, but I  never tried them.

Two summers ago, I had lower back pain and my doctor sent me for physical therapy. The therapist gave me a handful of exercises to do and I have been doing them every morning ever since. 

One of the exercises is the single leg knee-to-chest stretch. As in the photo above, with my hand behind my left knee, I pull my knee in to my chest until a comfortable stretch is felt in my lower back and buttocks. I hold that position for 30 seconds while keeping my back relaxed. Then I repeat the stretch with my right leg. Then I repeat the left and right stretches two more times.

One day, while counting down the 30 seconds, I thought about my high heels issue and wondered if I could stretch my foot while I was stretching my leg. After all, my foot was just hanging out in mid-air doing nothing! 

So I began stretching my foot during the knee-to-chest stretch. I simply swing my foot at the ankle in a tapping motion while stretching my toes like a ballet dancer performing the pointe technique, then swing my foot back to a natural standing (in mid-air) position. I repeat the foot stretch 30 times per set and use 30 foot stretches for counting down the 30 seconds of the knee-to-chest stretch set.

I have been doing my foot stretch exercise for about a year, but have not been able to see if they were doing any good because I have not worn high heels for an extended amount of time during the pandemic... until Saturday, when I wore high heels for eight hours.

My feet felt fine – no fatigue and no pain, so I assume my foot stretching had something to do with the big improvement in foot wear.

I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television (I prefer to play a nurse), so I am in no position to recommend that you do what I do, your mileage may vary, but it seems to have worked for me.

Wearing Elisabetta Franchi

U.S. Army infantryman Tony Starr femulates a burlesque queen for American troops in Korea, January 1946.

By Lisa

Coming out unintentionally came to mind when I was watching the excellent documentary Our Dad, Danielle, which played at the 2021 Vail Film Festival (23-26 September 2021). 

Danielle came out unintentionally to her daughter, Sarah, on a day when Danielle thought everyone in the family was away on a shopping trip. She decided to lounge in the family’s swimming pool in her swimsuit, but her daughter was in an upstairs bedroom with the blinds open and saw her dad and couldn’t make sense of it. 

Why would her dad wear a woman’s swimsuit? Had he simply looked for the nearest suit because his own swimsuit wasn’t available? It was confusing to her, so she asked her mother about it. Danielle’s wife, Becky, thereupon insisted to Danielle that she come clean.

That part brought back a memory when something similar happened to me. It also was very real to me because I am blessed with access to a swimming pool too and love to go there as Lisa (I also love to wear a sarong because I think it looks simply lovely).

My children are all grown and because I have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship with my wife, when she is at work over the weekend, it is time for Lisa to be out. On one such a Saturday I was dressed casually with no makeup or wig making myself some lunch in the kitchen when my 28-year-old daughter walked into the room. It was her house too growing up and she was looking for something, so she thought nothing of simply walking in. She took one look at me and the only word she could utter was, “What?!” Whereupon I said, “Give me a second…” and I rushed out of the room to change into my costume (guy clothes). 

When I reappeared, I sat her down and explained that I was TG. She was gobsmacked because she had no idea that her dad identified as a woman. I told her that when she was a little over five years old, she had walked into the closet I shared with my wife and had seen me in a bra, panties and stockings. She didn’t remember that happening, which I found fascinating because it obviously meant that she had no strong feelings associated with seeing me in women’s undergarments. It was not in her long-term memory. Whereas I had very strong feelings being discovered by her and it was indelibly stamped in my own memory! 

It may be that the incident occurred prior to the point when she start noticing gender differences. In any case, as we talked I learned that the most important question for her was whether my wife knew about my gender dysphoria. I assured her that my wife knew, but only as much as my wife was willing to know. 

And my daughter wanted to know whether my sons knew. They did not and still might not know except that I felt compelled to tell them so that they had a personal stake in defending TG rights when a “bathroom bill” was introduced in our state legislature.

From the day of that outing until now, my daughter has been my staunchest ally and supporter. She allows me to share with her some of my experiences and feelings about being Lisa. She knows Lisa is fundamentally who I am. 

Kids today are so much more aware of trans issues and they fully accept that some people have gender dysphoria. Still, I have learned to keep my filters intact with her. A daughter is still a daughter, even if she is an ally. There are some things that are just too personal, particularly between a father and daughter, to be said or shared. I believe that is true for any relationship: an ally of mine (and I have some others) should only know what someone in that particular type of relationship would generally know about me.

How about you? Have you inadvertently been outed? If so, what did you do? Was it ultimately a positive or a negative experience? 

My hope is that you benefited from someone important in your life knowing, as I did – even if it was unplanned!

Wearing Elisabetta Franchi

Fernand Raynaud femulating in the 1959 French film La Marraine De Charley (another rendition of Charley’s Aunt)

Actions speak louder than words

In retrospect, I should not have been surprised that they accepted the news and were extremely supportive. They had known me for many years and probably assumed that the only thing that would change would be a change of clothes.

At my day job, I showed up at work as a professional woman seven Halloweens (the last five Halloweens consecutively). Each time, I went all out and never appeared as a “man in a dress.”

First time, I assumed that my co-workers gave me the benefit of the doubt for my excellent femulation (his wife probably assisted in his transformation). The second through seventh Halloweens, I assumed that my co-workers suspected that there might be more to it than my wife’s skills. In fact, my wife never assisted in my femulations except to purchase some “girly gifts” and to offer me advice (“Your skirts too short!”)

All benefits of doubt were off when post-retirement, I was invited to my former employer’s Christmas party and showed up en femme. 

I never outed myself to any co-worker except my supervisor, manager and Human Resources and that was just to cover my derriere in case my ham radio world somehow got mixed up with my day job. 

If a co-worker ever asked me what was going on, I would have told them, but no one ever asked. Even the framed photo on my desk of me in office girl drag (photo above) did not move anyone to ask. But I think I did not give my co-workers enough credit – I believe they figured me out, but respected me and did not want to mention (the obvious?).

Post-retirement, I had a girl’s night out with my former supervisor, manager and the CEO’s executive assistant, Jackie. As I mentioned above, I had previously came out to my supervisor and manager, but not to Jackie, who was a big fan of my Halloween femulations. So while we were chatting at the restaurant, I asked Jackie if she knew I was trans and her response was “Of course!”

And so it goes.

Wearing Peter Do

Charles Hawtrey and Albert Burton femulating in the 1939 British film Jail Birds.

In honor of our favorite holiday later this month, I will be repost past Halloween posts on every Friday this month. The following repost is from November 1, 2013, the day after I made my fourth (second consecutive) appearance en femme on October 31.

I woke up about 15 minutes before my alarm clock, got out of bed, fed the pets, shaved, showered and began doing my makeup. Putting on my face took about 30 minutes and putting on my clothes took about ten.

I wore my black Ellen Tracy dress with the sequins pattern at the neckline, nude thigh-high hosiery, “Love Fury” black patent platform pumps from Nine West, black Maskowsy bag and silver jewelry (Avon watch, Napier earrings and bracelet). It was about 40 degrees Fahrenheit outdoors, so I also wore my black Dress Barn sweater coat (note to self: fix the loose button on the coat before you lose it).

I will mention my unmentionables because some people want to know: Victoria's Secret black lace brief panties and “Bombshell” bra, a waist cincher that is so old that the brand name tag is unreadable and I don’t remember the brand, and a Bali Spanx-clone cami to smooth out my torso.

I fetched the newspapers and brought them in the house, which required walking up and down a 125-foot paved driveway in 4-1/2-inch heels while trying to negotiate the cracks and pivots in the pavement in semi-darkness. Who needs coffee to wake up! I completed the trip without incident.

I drove to work arriving at 7:50 AM. I drove standard transmission wearing my platform pumps with their 4-1/2-inch heels even though I had brought along a pair of sensible shoes just in case. I wore the platform pumps all day long and also drove home wearing them; my feet were none the worse at the end of the day.

Since my previous appearance at work en femme last Halloween, we have hired only one new person, our receptionist. When I pulled into the parking lot, she had just arrived and was getting out of her car. When she saw my car, she waved. There would be no fooling her, but she was very impressed with my femulation and admitted that if she had not seen my car, she would not have recognized me.

I unloaded my computer bag and handbag at my desk and went to the ladies’ room to check my hair and makeup. All was well, so I walked down the hall to visit the head of my department. She thought I looked great and liked my new wig better than the one I wore last year. She took some photos and another employee took a photo of the two of us standing side-by-side.

My boss was wearing a very nice figure-hugging dress and joked about me wearing a dress,  too (she knows I am transgender). While she was talking to me, she adjusted her underwear, which made an audible snap as she did. Was she wearing Spanx and more importantly, was she so comfortable with me as just another female that she felt free to do that? In response, I adjusted my Spanx-clone cami and it made a similar snapping sound. She began laughing hysterically after I did that.

In my rush to get ready for work, I forgot to bring a yogurt from home which I normally eat as I work through my overnight e-mails. So I went to the cafeteria which my company shares with another company next door. I encountered a handful of young people from the other company and no one paid me any mind.

I had not been in that cafeteria in years and the cash register was not where it used to be, so I asked a young man where it was and he responded to me as if he was talking to a lady, not another guy, that is, he was very respectful and spoke as if he was helping a lady in distress. It was very nice.

The morning went by quickly. Various co-workers stopped by to see my costume. Gals and guys alike said I looked great. And some of them also wore costumes, but I was the only boy in girl costume.

The vice president of engineering came by and said he is always amazed by my transformation. “I don't know how you do it,” he remarked.

The president of my division passed by and greeted me by my female nickname, Sandy, which my former boss had dubbed me last Halloween in honor of the hurricane.

Some other co-workers who I encountered during the day, just said “Good morning, Stan” and did not mention my costume.

My best friend at work, another diehard Red Sox fan, stopped by to celebrate our World Series victory and remarked that I looked “very pretty.”

During my lunch hour, I drove to the dry cleaner to pick up my dress. The fellow who waited on me when I left the dress earlier in the week was not around and a young woman waited on me. She asked me if I was picking up and I said I was picking up my dress.

She took my receipt, fetched the dress and I paid her. She was pleasant and I could not tell if she suspected anything about my gender.

Next stop was Stop & Shop to pick up some groceries. As I pushed my shopping cart into the store, a woman older than me gave me the once over. She had a husband in tow and I figure she was wondering how my outfit would look on him.

A few other women and a few guys also checked me out while I was shopping. No one smiled or smirked knowingly, so they were either impressed, seen it before or thought I was overdressed for Stop & Shop.

Actually, during lunch hour, there are always other women in the store dressed like me. There are corporate parks and medical offices nearby that are full of women dressed like me who buy groceries during lunch hour. In fact, I saw a young woman in very high heels wearing a flouncy skirted dress that I would die for. I was tempted to ask her where she bought the dress, but she was heading out the exit.

I did ask a middle-aged women where she bought the Red Sox World Championship sweatshirt she was wearing. She pointed out to me that it was an old shirt from the 2007 World Championship, not this year’s, but that she hoped to get a new World Championship  shirt soon.

I finished shopping and found a cash register without a line. The cashier was a woman who I had cashed out with before. In the past when I cashed out in boy mode, she was cold, efficient and business-like. On Thursday when I cashed out in girl mode, she was as friendly as can be!

I returned to work, ate lunch, and noticed that the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. The afternoon went by slowly and ended with an interesting encounter.

One of our lab technicians walked by my cubicle slowly checking me out as she passed by. Then she turned around and did it again in the opposite direction. Obviously, someone had told her to find my cubicle and check me out. She then studied the name plate outside my cubicle and asked, “Are you Stan?”

I said, “Yes.”

She looked confused. So I switched eyeglasses from my readers to the bifocals she was more likely to see me wearing.

She said, “I still don't recognize you!”

It was time to go home, but I did not want the day to end because this was the way it was meant to be.

Wearing Bebe

Cliff Nazarro and Chick Chandler femulating in the 1941 film Sailors On Leave.

The party arrived at the casino at about 1 PM and the festivities began with some pre-dinner gambling. I invested $40 in one slot machine and 30 minutes later, I walked away with $320.

The casino was crowded due to the long holiday weekend and it was difficult finding available slot machines to play. As a result, I did not lose much of my winnings and instead, used them to pick up the dinner tab.

We finished dinner at about 7 PM and it was now “high glam” time in the casino. Everywhere I looked, I saw women dressed to kill in evening gowns, cocktail dresses and their highest heels. 

Among the glamorous women filing into the casino, I also noticed a few boys in evening gowns, cocktail dresses and their highest heels. Some of  “girls” were more glamorous than the girls.

My trans radar is pretty good and I am 99% sure that I detected my sisters en femme. And I am 100% sure about the ones who were using the men’s restroom!

(Thing is that here in Connecticut, “girls” can use the ladies’ room if they area presenting as girls, so go figure.)

Wearing Reese

Manuel Blanc femulating in the 2016 French film Where Horses Go to Die. You can view a music video related to the film’s soundtrack on YouTube.